It was 2019 when I last went to Les Contamines. One year later it was one of the first places that the Covid outbreak arrived in Europe. I wasn’t sure if I would get an opportunity to go back. I wasn’t sure if I was still capable of skiing having not done it for over five years and having passed 40 in between. Thankfully, the body was still willing and I needn’t have worried.
One point of concern was the snow when we arrived in early January. I’ve been reluctant to go skiing because of the environmental and ecological impact, and it was possible to see how little snow had actually settled prior to us arriving. While the resort had managed to create pistes, they were quite icy in comparison to the previous times that I had been many years ago. I can’t say whether this is a freakish one-off or part of a wider pattern of warming, but it was sad nevertheless to see the mountains with so little snow. It is impossible to write this without being a hypocritical wanker, like someone who flies an airplane over a glacier to comment on the pollution of airplanes and the damage it does to glaciers. Like Bo Burnham says, being self-aware isn’t a defence. There isn’t really a defence for it so I won’t try.
It was an opportunity to spend some time with my nephew and revisit a place where we both had keen memories of my Dad. Dad enjoyed the mountains and we had both spent time here with him in winters and summers when growing up. It was poignant to return. As well as skiing, my nephew and I spent time visiting the village, eating in restaurants and shooting short clips on a Bolex camera that I had brought along for the fun of experimenting.
Towards the end of the week there was a massive dump of snow. It turned the resort back to what we were used to. While I’ve no doubt that it would struggle without a decent permafrost, it nevertheless felt beautiful to see it again. Whether we return is uncertain. The environmental guilt is harder to overcome than the body being capable of skiing.
